


Time-Honored Tradition

by awayfromsight



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Idiots in Love, Therapy, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awayfromsight/pseuds/awayfromsight
Summary: Three times Bedelia and Hannibal talked about marriage.





	1. Baltimore

**Author's Note:**

> As with many things in the last few weeks, this would not have happened without @NotPersephone.

Bedelia du Maurier and Hannibal Lecter sat in their usual spots, right across from each other in her home. His immaculate three piece, designer-tailored person suit at the mercy of her razor sharp mind, as it was every week. She was free to rummage around in his pockets, turn him inside out as many times as she pleased. If she was smart about it. 

Bedelia rarely let her private affairs influence their sessions, but a letter she had received had roused her interest in his opinion on something and she felt determined to lure him into telling her. The fact that she brought up something related to herself at all was rare. It was unlike her to be direct when it came to their sessions, but the words had left her lips and were his to deal with now. 

“My sister is getting married in the spring.“ 

Hannibal raised his eyebrows, obviously taken aback at her abrupt declaration. They had been talking about his relationship with Abigail and how he thought her loss had affected him when his psychiatrist had interrupted his musings. He thought it odd that Bedelia shared something so personal with him in the middle of their meeting but decided to be patient and see where she planned on going with her approach. 

“How lovely. I’ve always been very fond of weddings. Are you looking forward to it?“

His psychiatrist apparently didn’t expect his seemingly genuine interest. It wasn’t unprecedented of him to try and turn the tables on her, analyze her, understand her but legitimate fascination from his side of the room felt foreign. 

“Not really. The concept of marriage never really appealed to me, they never seem to work out in my experience.“ 

She looks at her hands, clasped together in her lap and fears she might have said too much. Oversharing is a dangerous indulgence when it comes to Hannibal Lecter and she’d always been careful to keep a relatively professional distance between them. But his views of something as common and pedestrian as marriage intrigued her to no end . Bedelia was well aware, that he would not just simply offer up information on matters close to his heart. She had to give him something in return. 

“Your parents do not have a happy marriage?“ 

Bedelia looked up to meet his eyes. She always felt so very vulnerable under his gaze, as if he could see right through her layers of protection and just strip her bare if he wanted to. She feared the day when he did. 

“What my parents have can barely be described as a marriage, much less a happy one. But we’re not here to talk about me, Hannibal. Tell me about your parents.“

He doesn’t reply immediately. “My parents’ relationship was nothing extraordinary I’m afraid. What I remember of it, at least. But I’ve always held a certain fondness for the institution. Weddings are a wonderful celebration with a long tradition, throughout every culture.“  
Bedelia didn’t know what she expected. Her patient had always loved old customs, classical festivities like wedding would be no exception. Yet, his attempt to lead her away from his personal experience did not go unnoticed. She tried again.

“Surely you must remember something? Our parents are our very first impression of the world beyond ourselves, the first influences to shape us as humans. Going by that logic, their relationship must have affected your view on the concept.“  
He felt her piercing blue eyes on him, boring for answers beyond his veil and he shifted in his seat. Hannibal was aware that to her, his childhood was the single most interesting thing about him, simply because he refused to give her any insight on it. The tales of his time in Lithuania never made it past the seams of his person suit, not even for her. 

“This is a very basic approach to psychiatry, Doctor. There is evolvement beyond adolescence, as I am sure you’re aware. My appreciation for the aesthetics of weddings have nothing to do with my upbringing. I simply enjoy the rituals of it.“

Bedelia knew she had to tread carefully around him when she saw the stoic expression of his face, defying her advances. 

“Marriage is a very time-honored concept“, he continued “and though it might not always be successful, the idea behind it remains untouched and a very beautiful one, in itself. What has you so opposed to it?“

Here he was, trying to reverse their roles again. Hannibal longed to know her as well as she knew him, to peek behind her facade.

“Stop trying to take my place in this arrangement, you’re not my therapist, Hannibal. I am yours.“  
She almost felt like she was scolding a child. How wonderfully ironic, when their motives were so similar. What must he feel like, trying to evade her questions, Bedelia pondered. Does he feel preyed upon or is as simple as a hand movement, swatting away a fly? 

“I apologize, Doctor. I did not mean to overstep any boundaries.“  
He bowed his head, regretting both his unlucky attempt to get back at her and causing her to get upset. Their sessions together had become his favorite part of the week, by far. No one could play his game better than Bedelia and make it seem so effortless. When she told him that she would no longer be able to continue his therapy after her attack last year, his world had started to crumble a little. 

“You mean no more than usual?“

There was a twinkle in her eyes and the faintest of smiles on her lips when he lifted his gaze to meet hers.  
He decided in that moment, looking at his only equal, that living without Bedelia Du Maurier would be awfully dull.


	2. Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't meant to go up now, but I was bullied into writing. You know who you are. - Side note -The formatting of the first paragraph wouldn't work out the way I wanted it to, so... It's rough. Bare with me.

The next time the subject of marriage comes up is 2 years later. Bedelia sat in a hotel room in Paris entirely too small for two people who weren’t sharing more than intellectual discourse and meals. For now at least. Hannibal left earlier that morning to do god knows what. She hadn’t asked.  
For a second, she wondered if this was her life now. Sitting around in one hotel or another, wasting her life away, waiting around for a former patient who had entirely too much power over her.  
Bedelia was no fool, she was well aware that she was not in the sole position of control in this arrangement. She ran away with a serial killer by choice, but whatever happened between them now was a result of whatever game they happened to be playing. He had allowed her to be the dominant party back in Baltimore, but once they got on the plane to Europe, they had entered a more level playing field.  
They so far had not established their new roles, having left the simplicity of “Doctor and Patient“ behind with most of their belongings. He did not touch her beyond what was polite, both in public and in private, and they did not talk about matters more private than what they had created in their sessions.They simply coexisted.  
Footsteps appeared behind the front door of the hotel room, she heard the key turn in the lock and the subject of her musings entered the door. He looked nothing short of flawless, even on the run from the FBI. Tie and Pocket-square perfectly matched, no hair out of place. Hanging his coat up next to the door, he turned to look at her.  
“Good morning, Bedelia. I hope I did not wake you, when I left earlier?“  
Ever since he had discovered that she was anything but a morning person, the first flaw he had ever found in her, he would not let it go. She felt herself grow tired of his teasing already, when she saw the smirk on his face as he approached her. 

“You did not,“ she replied with a sigh,“ though I can’t think of anything that would require your personal attention before 8AM, Hannibal.“

He wordlessly procured an envelope from the inside of his suit jacket and handed it to her, his face not betraying any emotion.  
She slid one manicured fingernail under the sleeve and emptied its contents out on the small wooden table in front of her. She found two passports, undoubtedly containing both of their pictures and fake names, drivers licenses, credit cards and… a wedding license. 

“Roman and Lydia Fell… You want us to be married.“ She felt almost flustered at the thought.  
“I want our aliases to be married,“ he corrected her, “It’s the most logical explanation for our arrangement, wouldn’t you agree?“  
Damn him. Damn him for being so rational. And damn him for being right. 

“Of course. Theoretically speaking, it would be the most obvious solution. But Hannibal, you do realize that you are trying to drastically change the boundaries of our relationship?“  
Hannibal took a seat across from her, looking at her expectantly. “Am I? How so?“

“Well,“ Bedelia started, taking another look at the license in her hands, “our previous association was purely professional, platonic at most. A marriage, albeit be it a fake one, requires a lot more effort and … proximity. Both physically and mentally.“  
He smiled at her again, almost belittling her. It was absolutely infuriating.  
“I won’t expect anything from you that you aren’t comfortable with, Bedelia. You know that. As for those efforts you mentioned, nothing of the sort will be absolutely necessary. The marriage is under false identities and exists only on paper. Public displays of affection will in no way be mandatory. I want you to be comfortable. You chose to be here and I wouldn’t want to scare you away. I value you…r insight too much.“

She hadn’t missed the hesitation. Though why he hesitated, she didn’t know. She was aware, that her former patient had to have some sort of attachment to her. Her still being alive was proof of that. He had once told her, way back in Baltimore, in another life, that he felt protective over her. Why would he downplay their situation now?

Hannibal could feel her inquiring gaze on him, feel it burning through his veil, setting it ablaze. He had regretted his choice of words the second they had left his mouth, knowing she’d pick up on his little stumble. He valued more than just her professional knowledge, he knew that and she did as well. But this new, unfamiliar game of theirs made him feel uneasy. Hannibal, like Bedelia, preferred to move within defined boundaries, holding up certain standards and traditions. But what boundaries existed when one travelled to the so-called “City of Love“ with ones psychiatrist? A psychiatrist, he had to admit, that looked like a greek goddess, all perfect, porcelain features, golden hair and icy blue eyes. He caught himself staring at her sometimes, when he was sure she wasn’t paying attention. 

“Well, my insight on this is that pretending to be in such a close relationship holds more dangers than benefits. I did not come here to be anything other than your psychiatrist and colleague, Hannibal. That was never my intention.“

“Intentions can change, can they not?“

With that he got up and walked over to the coat hanger and reaches into the breast pocket, returning to the table with a small velvet box.  
Bedelia merely raised her eyebrows at him. 

“Open it, please. This might convince you of my idea.“ 

Hannibal watched her reach across the table cautiously, as though she feared the small box might bite. When she opened it, her eyes grew larger and he could hear a faint gasp.

“Hannibal, this is…“  
“My mother’s wedding ring. Yes. Her and my father’s rings were all that was saved of theirs from the war and I want you to wear this one as a sign of my trust in you and as proof, that you won’t have to do or sacrifice anything you do not wish to. I want us to be equal in this arrangement. When we leave for Florence soon, it won’t be as anything but.“

Bedelia felt at a loss for words. She knew that he could be sentimental, but this felt borderline romantic. Quietly, she slipped the ring on her finger, admiring the way it fit and glistened. She took a moment to collect herself and returned her gaze to the man across from her, giving him an honest smile. 

“Thank you, Hannibal. I will take great care of it.“


	3. Lithuania

Chapter 3: Lithuania

There was one final time when Hannibal Lecter and Bedelia Du Maurier talked about marriage. It was an entirely new setting, many years after Baltimore, after Paris, after Will Graham and the FBI.

This time, the conversation took place in front of a crackling fireplace in Castle Lecter, hidden away somewhere in Lithuania. Bedelia found herself covered by more than just expensive furs on this particularly cold winter night, feeling Hannibal’s hands going up and down her arms, ready to keep her warm at even the tiniest shiver on her part. 

He had wasted no time finding her, after his brutal victory against the Red Dragon and Graham’s little stunt that led them to plummet 50 feet off of a sea-side cliff. She had never really asked how he had managed to find her in the secluded retreat on the southern coast of France, she decided she didn’t really want to know. The shock of seeing him after days of seemingly endless news reports on “the suicide of Baltimore’s murder husbands“ had quickly worn off and made way for anger and fear. 

Had he finally come to finish her off? Had he brought Graham with him?   
But she soon discovered that he was alone, the lone survivor of that fateful night and his intentions vastly different from what she had expected. Hannibal had been battered and broken after the fall and being on the run from the law again, but his first action had been to find her, like he had done once before. 

“Will you come with me? I don’t know where I will or can go, but I would like you to be there.“ The look in his eyes had held so much warmth and affection for her, it could have melted glaciers and burned down empires. Bedelia was all he had left, his last remaining tea cup and she couldn’t remember why she had been scared of his return. But she hadn’t just melted into his embrace as he might have expected.

“I’ve heard this from you before. And look where it got you. Where it got us. How do I know that you won’t get bored again, that you won’t be tempted to throw it all away again, once Jack Crawford comes knocking at your door?“

There it was. The thorn in her side, ever since she had gotten on that plane from Italy back to Baltimore. The reason she had never once been to see him in prison. 

“I have made wrong decisions in the past, I can not deny that. I let myself be blinded by curiosity and possible insights from the experiment on Will. I never meant for you to get caught up in it the way you did, I never meant…“

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of heartbroken school girl, Hannibal.“, she interjected. She had heard enough of his self pity. “I haven’t spent the last few years pining after you and the romantic fairytale we could have had. I knew what might happen if I left with you and it did. That doesn’t mean I want to relive it. I’ve been behind the veil with you. I’ve seen it all. Why should I leave everything behind again?“ 

He had taken her hand then, the warm expression on his face unwavering.  
“Because you haven’t kicked me out yet. Because you took me in, after everything, without asking a single question, until now. Because you still care. Just as much as I do.“ 

And then he had kissed her. And as much as Bedelia had tried to stay angry, to stay cold and distant, she hadn’t found it in her to push him away. 

That was how they ended up in the Castle of his ancestors, his childhood home, sitting in front of the fire with two glasses of red wine.   
Hannibal brought the topic of marriage up this time around, after they had spent the evening dining at his parents’ table, sleeping in their old master bedroom, even though everything had been redecorated since their arrival a few months ago. 

“You know…“, he began, trailing his hands from her arms, over and down her back to her waist, pulling Bedelia closer to him, “I’ve been thinking…Do you remember the last time we talked about marriage?“

She turned to look at him, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“Paris, just before we left for Italy, wasn’t it? You felt it was the safest alias.“

Hannibal chuckled a little. Leave it to her to completely turn that conversation on him. “You could say that, yes. Do you remember why you were so cautious about it?“ 

She fully turned towards him now, genuinely curious about where he was going with this. “Because it did not feel appropriate at the time. Our relationship was strictly professional then and adding a marital element felt like an unsuitable leap. I never really intended for our arrangement to change, certainly not back then.“ 

“Are you unhappy that it did? Change, I mean.“ He suddenly seemed nervous, almost fidgeting next to her.

Resting a hand on his cheek, trying to calm him down, she replied without hesitation. “No. Of course not. I would not be here if I was, would I?“

He visibly relaxed before her. 

“Good.“

There it was again. That expression, that had melted her resolve so many months ago. The fire illuminated his face, as he pulled Bedelia ever so much closer and kissed her. Something so completely familiar to them at this point, something they had done uncountable times but as she felt him smile against her lips, she sensed that this was different. One of his hands left her waist and reached to a place she couldn't see behind his back.

He broke the kiss, entirely too soon, where Bedelia was concerned and opened his hand in front of her. Inside was a tattered black box, not unlike the one he had given to her in Paris, all those years ago. And something inside her head clicked.

“Hannibal, what are you…?“

“Please, just let me say this. In Paris, when I gave you my mother’s ring, I told you that that was all I had left of hers. That wasn’t quite true.“

With almost shaky hands he opened the box, revealing a beautiful but aged silver engagement ring, holding a brilliant diamond in the middle of it. He held it out to her, uncharacteristically shy, looking down at the box between them.

“I found this among their things upstairs a few weeks ago. I didn’t plan to do this until I found it, I didn’t even think it still existed, but… Bedelia I kept thinking about you. When I was behind that glass, back in Baltimore.“ He didn’t call Baltimore “home“ anymore, because it wasn’t. He had returned home, had returned here, from Baltimore, months ago. With her.   
“I remember every conversation we had, every dress you wore, how beautiful you looked. How much that time helped me. How much I enjoy your company. And I know, you don’t believe in marriage, but…“

“Yes.“

He looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time since their kiss.   
“What?“

“Yes.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, the final chapter of my very first multi-chapter fic. I can't believe I actually managed to finish it (even though it took time.) As always, huge thanks to my friend K (NotPersephone) <3, especially since I stole the setting of this chapter from one of her fics. (Go read it, she's so much better at this than me.)   
> I feel incredibly grateful to anyone who read this and supported this, because I'm incredibly inconsequential and didn't think I'd ever finish writing this. <3


End file.
